The Remus Lupin Files
by Deep Forest Green
Summary: A collection of oneshots pertaining to the life of Remus J. Lupin, and the lives he touched. Mostly gen and canon-compliant. Missing scenes, in no particular order.
1. Fear Itself

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series, no profit is made or intended with this, etc., etc.

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Chapter Summary: A conversation that takes place between Remus and Dumbledore during the latter's earlier years at Hogwarts.

A note on names: You will notice that throughout this fic, I may refer to Remus Lupin as Remus, Lupin, or Moony. I will try to be as consistent as possible in my usage of these names. "Remus" is the most common name I will use, for when RL is a young child, Hogwarts student, or Order member during the FWW; or when the scene is an informal conversation between friends. "Lupin" (or "Professor Lupin") refers to RL during or after his time as a Hogwarts teacher, or in a more formal setting. "Moony" refers to RL in his werewolf form, regardless of his age. During the "missing" period of 1981-93, I will be a little more flexible and use "Remus" and "Lupin" interchangeably. Of course, his friends', colleagues', and students' ways of addressing or referring to him may vary within the chapter as well.

* * *

"Something is troubling you, Remus," said Dumbledore, his hands folded behind his back.

"Yes. Professor," said Remus to Dumbledore as they walked out onto the bridge on a brisk afternoon, "I don't think I should be in Gryffindor. I have so many fears. I'm afraid of the moon, a sliver in the sky. I'm afraid of stars, and the night, and darkness, everything that's associated with the full moon. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can't help it. I'm sorry, sir, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I know all you went through just so I could go here, but perhaps I should be in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. I'm not brave."

Dumbledore met with Remus for an hour or so once every few weeks, just to check in on him. The headmaster knew he wasn't supposed to have favorites, but he couldn't help loving Remus, who was brilliant and sensitive and reminded him a bit of himself at that age. He too had a secret, and he too often doubted himself. Though it saddened him to see Remus so down on himself, Dumbledore was sure that it was just a phase he would outgrow, and tried to convince him of that fact.

"Nonsense, my boy," said Dumbledore, cutting him off. "From your point of view, it doesn't sound ridiculous at all; in fact, it makes perfect sense. One cannot be brave if one has no fears to overcome. And I am positive that, in Gryffindor, you will overcome them." He turned to Remus suddenly. "Have you heard, by any chance, of Franklin Delano Roosevelt?"

Remus wrinkled his brow. "He was a Muggle, right?"

Dumbledore nodded. "He became President of the United States of America during the Muggle 'Depression', and remained so for the next twelve years until his death. Like you, he had a crippling medical condition, acquired during childhood, which he tried desperately to hide for fear of rejection. And like you - " here he paused for effect - "he had the courage to rise above his disability, and led his countrymen in fighting one of the greatest evils the Muggle world has ever known; an evil which, had it succeeded, might have even conquered our world as well."

Remus' eyes widened. "Grindelwald?"

"No, but also German, and coinciding right around the same time. Very perceptive, Remus. I suspect the rise and fall of one had something to do with the rise and fall of the other. Now, your mother is a Muggle, so you know perhaps more about them than most students at this school." He paused thoughtfully to lean over the railing of the bridge. "I often say, though many ignore me, that we could learn a lot from Muggles. We wizards tend to underestimate their intelligence, but in many ways their society is even superior to ours. I myself have devoted much time and energy towards understanding them. For example, Muggles cannot see dementors, and they are immune to their Kiss. But they can feel their presence, as cold and emptiness. For Muggles, a dementor is not so much a being as a metaphor, a conglomeration of every negative emotion. They have other names for them - sadness, depression, hopelessness, bitterness, despair. A dementor can even represent fear itself. I have never met someone whose boggart was a dementor, but I imagine that such a person would be immune, or at least highly resistant, to the banal fears that control wizards and Muggles alike.

"As I was saying, when Roosevelt became president in 1933, the Muggle American economy was in crisis - Muggles depend a great deal on their economy - and the nation was desperate for a strong leader. People were terrified, and this fear prevented them from investing in their country, in each other, and thus bringing the country back from the brink of collapse. But Roosevelt - a good friend of our Muggles' Winston Churchill, by the way - said the best thing he could have possibly said. In his inaugural address, he told the people that the only thing they had to fear was fear itself. What do you suppose he meant by that?"

"He didn't want a panic," said Remus thoughtfully. "He didn't want people turning on each other trying to spread blame, but to keep cool and band together to do what was best for everyone."

Dumbledore patted the boy on his back. "Precisely, Remus. I couldn't have put it better myself. Now I, for one, always thought this was very wise. Fear is always the first enemy to be defeated when fighting a battle. When we are afraid, it can be difficult to keep one's head and remember what one is afraid of, and it is vital that we do so. Your friends James and Sirius, they are brave, but often reckless. In this way, you are not like them. You ask why you are not in Ravenclaw, since you are cautious and level-headed. You think about things before you do them, frightening things, but then you do them anyway. In this way, you may be the bravest amongst your friends. Not that it is a contest, of course - " here he winked confidentially. "I see no need to pit friend against friend, nor for you to divulge any of this to Potter and Black. But it seems to me that those who underestimate themselves are often the truest of companions, precisely because they have no yearning for glory, nor are they rebelling for the sake of rebellion; whatever they do, they need a good reason for it."

"Professor," said Remus, "did the dementors escape from our world during this... crisis? Did they go loose into the Muggle world to wreak havoc there?"

"Many did," said Dumbledore. "Dementors feed off of hardship, especially war. But a Muggle's defense against a dementor is, oddly enough, not very different than our own. Though they do not know it, many Muggles fight dementors every day without the use of magic, and some emerge victorious. They do not have wands and cannot cast a patronus charm, but many of them have proved surprisingly adaptable at countering gloomy thoughts with optimistic ones. They too arm themselves with their happiest memories. Memories that no one can take away from them.

"Remus, I want you to go out and enjoy the rest of this beautiful day. I want you to go find your friends and make memories with them that are strong and happy enough to fight off a whole army of dementors. Be a child, Remus Lupin, for days like this may be your last chance to do so."

Remus nodded in surprise. "Yes, sir." He ran off, not happily exactly, but with plenty to think about.


	2. A Fateful Encounter

Chapter Summary: Takes place sometime in late spring of 1994 (PoA).

* * *

Remus Lupin said the new password to the gargoyle and entered Dumbledore's office right after the end of dinner. He passed the time eyeing all the curious objects lying on the shelves, but careful not to touch any of them, just in case. He had been in here several times before as a student, being something of a personal protege of Dumbledore, and recognized several of the objects; but he also noticed many that were new.

Finally he gave in and sat down to await Dumbledore's return. He was here because in class today, Hermione had asked him if he would set aside a period to talk about his experiences in the Order of the Phoenix and answer students' questions. Somewhat taken aback, he had told her that it sounded like an excellent idea to him - after all, it was a personal story that was highly relevant to the class - but he would have to ask Dumbledore first, as the headmaster might wish certain things to remain confidential. It was no secret that Lupin as well as other Hogwarts staff members had been in the Order; but he nevertheless worried about what would happen if things he said to a class full of Gryffindors found their way to Slytherin ears, and he was sure Dumbledore would worry too. Not that the Gryffindors and Slytherins talked to each other if they could help it, but Lupin knew better than to trust a roomful of thirteen-year-olds to keep a secret; and it just didn't seem fair to exclude members of one House from valuable knowledge because of perceived untrustworthiness. Yet it was rumored that Voldemort was still out there, that he was trying to regain his body and make a comeback with a new army of Death Eaters, many of whom would be parents of Slytherin students. If the rumors were true, hearing some of the techniques used by the Order would be far more important than learning how to tackle Dark creatures like grindylows.

"Remus Lupin," said the Sorting Hat smoothly, causing the young professor to jump in surprise. "Ah yes, I remember you. You were particularly difficult... but I believe I made the right decision."

"Is it your custom to comment on the Sorting of every current or former Hogwarts student who ever comes in here?" asked Lupin irritably, looking up at the hat resting on the lowest shelf. He remembered his Sorting with a cringe of embarrassment; he had been under the Hat almost a minute, which had felt like an eternity. It wasn't normal to take so long. Nothing about him was normal. It had been bad enough that he was going to school where he had to constantly live in fear of his condition being discovered; he did not need to be the subject of so much unwanted attention right away. He had hoped to just lay low, and hated how everyone had stared at him waiting for him to get on. He had wanted to disappear into any of the tables; he hadn't cared which one. Now, twenty-two years later, he still had the uncomfortable feeling that the hat could see into him, even though he hadn't put it on. He supposed he should be grateful to it, for had he not been in Gryffindor, he might not have befriended the Marauders, and his life would be completely different. For better or for worse... well, the jury was still out on that.

"Why yes, it is," said the hat matter-of-factly. "With you, I couldn't resist. In fact, that Potter boy came in here just last year. I told him he would have done well in Slytherin, but he didn't seem to believe me. Bright lad, that one, lots of potential, but sometimes I think that it goes to waste in Gryffindor. On the other hand, both his parents were in Gryffindor, while the wizard who killed them was in Slytherin, so I suppose there was never really any doubt where he would be. And then when he drew Gryffindor's sword from me that June, well, you know the legend - only a true Gryffindor can draw that sword - it doesn't seem entirely fair to me, but I didn't make the rule... "

"If you don't mind," said Lupin, trying to conceal his impatience, "I'm waiting for Dumbledore to return from dinner so we can have a meeting."

"Dumbledore speaks very highly of you," the hat remarked. "Your bravery in the Order caused him to finally see you as an adult. It took a great deal of courage to become the Defense teacher here, when everyone says the job is jinxed. Did it not?"

"Only physical things can be jinxed," said Lupin, eyeing the books on the shelves. "Something metaphysical like a job, no."

The hat smiled wryly. "Ah, well, I suppose you would know. So you don't believe the rumors? Despite the evidence of all the Defense teachers who came before you since 1955?"

"I don't particularly care if something horrible happens to me or not," Lupin said honestly. "Just being back here has made me the happiest I've been since the war ended."

"That is not bravery, that is simply recklessness," said the hat. Lupin looked away; he clearly couldn't have cared less what the hat had to say about his actions.

"Yes, you were a challenge," the hat continued, as if Lupin had not spoken the whole time. "I remember it like it was yesterday. I was very close to putting you in Ravenclaw, and I even briefly considered Hufflepuff... the only House I could rule out immediately was Slytherin. A Slytherin would have taken advantage of his condition, joined his fellow werewolves instead of trying to fit into a community that shunned him. But you despised your condition and sought to work against it. Admirable, taking the path of greatest resistance. Yet, your friends were much easier. Even Peter was much easier."

At this, Lupin finally showed some interest. This was the first he had heard about his friends since he arrived; everyone else seemed to abide by the unspoken rule that they must not mention the Marauders in Lupin's presence. He raised an eyebrow and stared quizzically up at the hat. "What do you mean, 'even' Peter?" he asked. "Don't you know that he died a hero's death?"

The hat chuckled wryly. "I highly doubt that," it said. "With James there was no question, and Sirius absolutely insisted that he be placed as far away from his family as possible. But Peter - well, he practically begged to be in Gryffindor. It was no use trying to refuse him."

"Why didn't you put Sirius in Slytherin?" Lupin demanded, ignoring this jibe against Peter for the moment. "Why didn't you put him with the rest of his rotten blood-supremacist family?"

"I told you already," said the hat patiently. "He simply would not hear of being in Slytherin. Although he certainly was cunning - and as you know, had a strong disregard for the rules - his bravery and fierce loyalty to his friends were what defined him the most. So, Gryffindor it was."

"'Fierce loyalty to his friends'?" Lupin scoffed drily. "I think you must have missed something."

"I have never been wrong, Lupin," said the hat firmly.

"Didn't you know that dementors are surrounding the school, to guard it?" asked Lupin harshly. "Guarding it from Sirius Black, an escaped convict from Azkaban! Dumbledore hired me, in part, because Sirius used to be my friend and I knew his methods, so I would be able to better protect the school from him if he somehow managed to get past the dementors."

"I was aware of the dementors, yes," the hat said. "I know of virtually everything that goes on at Hogwarts, thanks to Dumbledore. I know that Dumbledore resents their presence, that he thinks the Ministry is wrong to trust them with this vital task. And I can tell you, Lupin - " the hat lowered its voice - "that Dumbledore is not convinced of Sirius' guilt in the crime of which he was convicted."

"And what about Peter?" Lupin asked confusedly, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, his trust in Dumbledore battling his own long-held assumptions. "I don't see how he could have been anything but a Gryffindor. He became an Animagus for me - I think that's pretty damn brave. And later on, he died trying to stand up to that dirty traitor Sirius before he killed him and took all those Muggles with him. And if Dumbledore thinks otherwise - " he swallowed hard - "then Dumbledore is wrong."

"Your loyalty to your friend is admirable, but I fear not entirely reciprocated," the hat said. "As I hinted before, had Peter not expressed a preference for Gryffindor, my inclination would have been to put him in Slytherin. You see, he was a very nervous, insecure boy - "

"Of course he was nervous," Lupin interjected. "He was an eleven-year-old boy attending school for the first time. Being nervous doesn't make you cowardly."

"No, of course not," said the hat. "You were quite nervous too, I remember, and for good reason. But you didn't let me finish. Peter wanted to be surrounded by those he thought would protect him. He was afraid that the Slytherins would have bullied him, and I expect he was right. His strongest instinct was self-preservation, a very Slytherin inclination."

"No, of course not," said the hat. "You were quite nervous too, I remember, and for good reason. But you didn't let me finish. Peter wanted to be surrounded by those he thought would protect him. He was afraid that the Slytherins would have bullied him, and I expect he was right. His strongest instinct was self-preservation, a very Slytherin inclination."

"Well, he grew out of that phase, obviously," said Lupin defensively. "He tried to make sure that Sirius was caught and punished, and Sirius killed him for it. He died for James and Lily."

"You forget, Remus, that I can see potential as well as present characteristics," the hat said. "In Peter I saw no capacity for bravery at all. I know it sounds harsh, but it's true. He simply latched on to whoever he thought would help him stay alive, not caring if they themselves did or not. I saw this clearly in his friendship with you so-called 'Marauders', a friendship which you largely initiated. I can only venture a guess that when he realized the Order was no longer the most powerful confederation of wizards, he quickly changed his affiliation to avoid the torture and death he knew Voldemort would inflict upon him."

"Why are you telling me this?" Lupin asked, just to buy some time.

"It is my obligation to tell the truth to anyone my master deems worthy," the hat said simply.

"But it was all over the Daily Prophet," Lupin protested, sinking down into a chair. "The murder... the Muggle witnesses... there's no way he could still be alive." Suddenly he gasped in horror. "Unless... "

Lupin's eyes widened with realization, closely followed by incredulity, and the sudden knowledge that he would have to reassess everything he thought he knew about his friends. He held his face in his hands. "Oh, Merlin, this is all my fault," he whispered to himself. "All this time Sirius has been in this hell on earth, and I blamed him for it! I've been a terrible friend, I can't believe I was so foolish... I have to make this right! I have to go!"

Lupin knew exactly what he had to do. There was only one object in the world that could tell him if the hat's implications were correct, and it was in a drawer inside his desk back in his office. He had to go. Now.

When Dumbledore returned up the spiral staircase to his office, he saw Lupin breezing past him at top speed. "My boy, the full moon is not due quite yet," he said calmly. "Your potion can wait, and besides, Professor Snape is preoccupied at the moment."

Lupin briefly considered whether he should stop and explain everything to Dumbledore, who, after all, would know what to do. But he needed time alone, time to think about whether the hat was to be believed and he had had it wrong, backwards, this whole time. So he kept running, until he reached his office. On his way down, he thought he saw a knowing twinkle in Dumbledore's eye. But he supposed it was just an illusion.


	3. A Loss of Innocence

Chapter Summary: A conversation that takes place between Remus and his father when the former is 8-10 years old.

Note: all the "factual" information in this chapter that's not in the books (like Remus' father's name, his mother being a Muggle, etc.) comes directly from Remus' biography on Pottermore.

* * *

"Dad," said Remus while his father was tucking him in one night, "was I always like this?"

"Like what?" Lyall asked, worried.

"A werewolf."

Lyall sighed. "No," he said. "You probably don't remember not being one, but trust me, you were born a perfectly normal human being."

"Are you and Mum werewolves?"

"No."

"Then why am I? Did I do something wrong?"

"Absolutely not!" his father declared, horrified. "Don't ever think that."

"Then why does everyone treat me that way?" Remus asked. "Does it have something to do with why I'm not allowed to open the windows at night?"

"Remus, that's just common sense," said Lyall vehemently. "Everyone knows that in addition to protective spells, you have to arm yourself the Muggle way too." He wrapped the sheets tighter around his son.

"Dad," said Remus, "I know I was bitten. I still have scars on my arm. I want to know who did it."

"You have to promise not to tell anyone," said Lyall seriously, lowering his voice. "You have to promise not to go looking for him or to seek out revenge. Do you understand?"

Remus nodded.

Lyall inhaled deeply. "Fenrir Greyback," he whispered.

"Who is he?" Remus asked just as softly.

"The leader of a wolfpack. Evil, evil man."

"What happened to him?" Remus asked. "Is he in Azkaban?"

"No," said Lyall bitterly. "He's still at large."

Remus' eyes shot wide open in alarm and anger. "He tried to kill me!" he declared. "Why didn't you have him taken in?"

"Believe me, Remus, I tried," Lyall told him. "I fought hard and went straight to the top of the Ministry, trying to make it their number-one priority. But Greyback is clever, very clever. He had everyone at the Ministry fooled, except me. I'd like nothing more than to know he's behind bars, but sometimes we just have to accept the fact that evil people roam free."

"What if he's attacking more kids?" Remus asked rhetorically, sitting upright in his bed. "What if he bites them every month, and he's trying to build an army?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," said Lyall. "I haven't heard anything more about him ever since he was released, though believe me, I've been listening. But it's entirely possible."

"Well, somebody's got to stop him!" Remus shouted, unable to restrain himself any longer. "He can't go on turning people into monsters like me!"

"You're going to be a Gryffindor," Lyall said softly, ruffling his son's hair with a loving yet sad look in his eyes. Remus smiled softly; he'd always wanted to be a Gryffindor just like his dad. Yet at the same time, he heard his father's unspoken words: If they let you go to Hogwarts. "But remember your promise. Don't get yourself into trouble."

"Dad, why did he do it?" Remus asked, tears forming in his eyes. "Why would anyone do such a thing?"

"I suppose he was just hungry," Lyall said, looking away with a helpless shrug. "Werewolves can't control their appetites sometimes."

Remus saw right through this lie. "He climbed in through my window," he said firmly. "Why wouldn't he have gone for someone who was out wandering in the woods, who was easier prey? And why try to eat a child? I was so small!"

"Everyone knows better than to wander around in that forest at night on full moon," said Lyall, still refusing to look Remus in the eye. "No one would've been out there."

"It can't be a coincidence," Remus insisted. "He picked me, he knew who I was."

"All right," said Lyall, finally deciding to give in and tell the truth. "He did it out of revenge."

"Revenge?" Remus repeated incredulously. "What did I ever do to him?"

"Nothing," Lyall said firmly. "It was revenge against me."

"You?" Remus felt himself getting angry again. "What did you do to him?"

"As I'm sure you already know, Remus, I specialize in werewolf law and management within the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures," his father told him. "One day Greyback was brought in on the suspicion of attacking a Muggle boy. I was the only one who didn't believe his story and tried to have him arrested. Being the despicable coward that he is, he took his revenge out on you, a child. It's true that Greyback did intend to kill you. But when he heard that you had survived, I imagine he thought it fitting and pleasingly ironic that the man who had spoken so harshly of werewolves now had one for a son. Naturally, if I'd known it would come back to you, I would have kept silent. In my defense, though, I will say that I think I'm one of the best-equipped wizards in Britain today to be raising a werewolf."

"But you don't hate werewolves anymore, right?" Remus asked hesitantly.

"Certainly not all of them," said Lyall with a pained smile, stroking his son's cheek. "I'll definitely think twice before I make any generalizing statements about them again."

"Would you love me more if I wasn't a werewolf?"

"More?" Lyall asked, sounding scandalized. "How could I love you more than I do right now? On the contrary, I think going through this whole ordeal has made me love you more, because it's shown me just how strong and brave you are. Obviously, it's been very hard for both of us - you more than me, of course - but we've made it this far, and I don't doubt your ability to manage your condition on your own someday. And your mother, being a Muggle and all, has been remarkably brave to stay by our side for all these years, facing dangers she can't quite understand and isn't equipped to fight, though Merlin knows she does her best."

"Do you really think they'll let me into Hogwarts?" Remus asked nervously. "I don't want to go to a Muggle school... no disrespect to Mum, of course, but I'm a wizard and I ought to learn how to control my magic."

"Oh, I think so," said Lyall matter-of-factly. "You know Rubeus Hagrid, the half-giant groundskeeper? His father didn't think he'd be let in either, since it was a struggle even then for him to fit through most of the doorways, but they found a way for him. When there's magic, there's a way."

"But that was so long ago," said Remus. "And Hagrid was expelled in his third year, wasn't he? For something about a beast?"

"Yes, but many people think he was framed," Lyall told him. "They say that Albus Dumbledore, the current Transfiguration professor, may become headmaster soon. He is known for being a very kind, clever, and tolerant man. If he indeed takes the position, I am sure he will find a way for you to attend Hogwarts without posing a danger to anyone."

"I don't want to be a burden," said Remus softly.

"Don't say that," Lyall said admonishingly. "You're our son. No matter what happens, you'll always be welcome in this house." He leaned over and kissed Remus' forehead. "Now try and get some sleep. All this will look better in the morning. And don't tell your mother about this little talk - at least, not yet. It would only worry her."


	4. Prongs

Chapter Summary: Remus has a harrowing experience in Muggle-land. I don't know much about British hunting culture, so the hunter in this is based off of stereotypical American rednecks.

* * *

It so happened that one summer afternoon in the late 1980s, a homeless man in his late twenties was wandering aimlessly down a forest path. This young man, being unfamiliar with the customs of Muggles, did not know that this particular patch of forest was reserved for game hunters; in his indifference, he had failed to read the warning sign. Suddenly he heard a loud crack that disturbed the peaceful silence, and turned rapidly to find its source. Crouched down, he spotted a lone figure, pointing a long, thin metallic object. The young man immediately deduced that the sound had come from there, and that the Muggle had been aiming for a deer, which was now running away deep into the forest. In the same moment, the wizard and the Muggle laid their eyes upon a beautiful, noble stag with the most magnificent antlers the wizard had ever seen. In a panic, the young wizard realized that the Muggle had his sights set on this creature, and was preparing to re-fire.

"Prongs!"

Remus bolted towards the hunter and jumped on top of him, knocking him aside and causing him to misfire. The deer, startled by the sound, bolted away. The fat of the flabby Muggle hunter cushioned Remus' fall, until the former wrestled Remus off of him and began shouting at the stranger.

"Oi, are you mad?!" the hunter shouted, wrestling Remus off of him. "What on earth was that for?! You could've broken my back! I'll sue you for that, I will! Don't you know you've got to wear an orange vest to come out here? You could've been shot!"

Remus did not know what 'sue' meant, but he could tell the Muggle was angry. He didn't know why; from what he could tell, Muggles in Britain did not depend on hunting for sustenance. He got up, brushed himself off, and faced the man who was accusing him. "It's terrible that the Mu - that this world is so uncivilized, in this day and age, that you murder innocent creatures for recreation!" he declared angrily. "I can't believe you peo - we don't have edicts banning that sort of thing! Maybe the pure-bloods are right - maybe your kind is inferior!"

The hunter eyed Remus quizzically. "What are you, a Hindu or something?"

"Yes," Remus agreed hastily, though he did not have the slightest clue what a Hindu was. "All animal life is sacred, and equally valuable to that of a human being. If you death-curse an animal, you never know who - or what - you might be killing. Animals are our brothers, our sisters, our friends."

"I don't care much for you hippie types," the Muggle said, narrowing his eyes. "You're the reason this country is going to the wolves."

At this, Remus saw red. He raised his fist to punch the Muggle, but he belatedly remembered that the man had one of those Muggle Death Curses right beside him. Instead, to be on equal ground with the Muggle, he drew his wand. Upon seeing this, the Muggle laughed. "You Hindus carry around a stick?" he chortled derisively. "You think your special sticks have magic powers to ward away evil or something?"

Suddenly Remus remembered from his Muggle Studies class that Muggle Death Curses worked by firing metal pellets called 'bullets' at the object one wished to destroy. Pointing at the barrel of the gun, he used a nonverbal Vanishing Charm to vanish the bullets in the Muggle's gun so that the man couldn't harm him - or any more animals.

The Muggle gaped at him, a stupid, uncomprehending look frozen on his face. Remus saw his opportune moment and took advantage of it.

Figuring that the Muggle was no longer a threat, Remus Confunded the Muggle's memory, leaving him confused and ammo-less. Then he walked away, concealing his wand in the inner pocket of his jacket. He hoped that his lecture had had some effect on the Muggle, that he would remember the incident well enough to never go hunting again; for Remus could not prevent him from going home and loading more Death Curses into his big metallic wand. He had never felt such a strong desire to return to the wizarding world. Meanwhile, the Muggle looked around to try to reorient himself and overheard a man muttering something about someone named James.


	5. The Defense Essay

Chapter Summary: Just a little snapshot of Remus and Sirius doing their homework. A slice-of-life piece with implications far beyond the mundane.

* * *

"Say, Moony," said Sirius, turning to his friend as they sat together in the library. "Can you help me with this Defense essay? You're the best at Defense - what's the best way to hold off dementors for extended periods of time?"

"You didn't learn about dementors from your family?" asked Remus incredulously. "I would've thought they'd have taught you all about them, being into Dark magic and stuff."

"Well, I don't exactly plan on going to Azkaban," said Sirius drily, rolling his eyes. "It's a stupid question, if you ask me. 'Expecto Patronum' is all you'll ever need. If you can't do that, you get the Kiss."

"Well, here's what I found," said Remus, reading from a book. "'Since dementors suck out happy thoughts and memories and feed off of sad ones, neither type will prevent a Kiss in the event of a failed Patronus charm. Therefore, it is necessary to arm yourself with thoughts and memories that are positive, but not happy per se - rather assertive, affirmative, assuring. The strength of the thought or memory is vitally important. Examples include reminding oneself of positive facts (my loved ones are alive, my possessions are well hidden, etc.) and repeating them for as long as necessary for the dementors to keep a safe distance'."

"Thanks," said Sirius, writing furiously. "You're a lifesaver, Moony."


	6. Playing with Teddy

Chapter Summary: Takes place at the Tonks home during the last month of Remus and Dora's lives.

* * *

"Accio baby!"

The baby shrieked with laughter as his father's spell lifted him up into the air. A second later, his mother's spell, equally strong, brought him towards her. Teddy was jolted back and landed right over his crib, suspended between the two of them. He looked from one to the other, then giggled.

"Come to Mummy, Teddy!" Tonks cried, playfully trying to pull her son closer to her than to her husband.

"No way!" Remus shouted back. "He obviously likes his daddy more!"

Teddy floated to right above the edge of his crib, where he reached down and started grasping for the railing.

"Let's put him down," said Tonks, and they both carefully lowered their wands until Teddy was safely back in his crib. Suddenly Remus grinned wickedly and shouted, "Levicorpus!"

Teddy rose so fast that he stopped suddenly just before he hit the ceiling. His hair turned bright blue with pleasure.

"It's something James and Lily liked to do with Harry," Remus told his wife, feeling both happy and sad at the memory. "They let me and Sirius and Peter do it a few times, too. Harry loved it. He squealed even louder than Teddy just did."

"Are you sure he was squealing to ask for more?" Tonks asked, half-jokingly. "Are you sure he wasn't begging you to stop?" Levitating a baby seemed a bit dangerous to her, but she knew that Remus would never do it to his own son unless he was 100 percent confident in his ability to do it safely.

"Well, in a few years Teddy'll be too old for it, and I'm sure we'll miss it then," said Remus, staring up at his infant son who was hovering a few feet above their heads. "Didn't your parents ever levitate you when you were a little kid?" His eyes widened, realizing that so soon after her father's death, he might be reopening wounds that were still trying to heal.

"No, they never really did frivolous things with me," Tonks told him. "You know Mum's a very serious person. Dad probably wanted to, but he wouldn't let her."

"Oh," said Remus. He'd just assumed that levitating babies was a normal way of bonding with them.

"We should probably bring him back down now," said Tonks.

"Yeah," Remus agreed. Once again, they gently brought Teddy back into his crib, like the smooth ending of a roller coaster ride as it pulls back into the station right after the last curve or drop. "He seems pretty tired. We should let him get some rest."

"We could use some rest ourselves," Tonks observed wearily. "I just wish I could give you my ability so you could turn your hair pink whenever you wanted to cover up the gray."

"Pink?" Remus repeated incredulously. "You think pink hair would make me look my age? I thought you loved my gray!"

"I do, but I also don't, if you know what I mean," said Tonks.

Remus nodded. He understood perfectly. But looking at Teddy, he suddenly became determined that his son would not get a gray hair until he was at least fifty years old.


	7. Firenze

Chapter Summary: Set in fall 1971. In which an attempt is made to explain the origin of Firenze's pro-human leanings.

* * *

Firenze was glad of the full moon. As a young centaur who was just starting his night watch duties, the herd gave him the easier task of keeping watch while the moon gave the most light. True, in other forests werewolves might be a danger at this time of the lunar cycle; but there had been no werewolves heard or seen in Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest since the Founders drove them out to build the school. Standing sentry at the top of a hill, Firenze felt perfectly safe. He passed the time, as he nearly always did, by observing the stars. Their alignment did not bode well tonight.

Suddenly Firenze heard a long, unbroken howl. In the milky shadows beneath the trees, a vicious-looking canine stood semi-erect, its claws unsheathed, looking as if it had just killed a small animal. Firenze's blood froze in his veins. There was no mistaking the form and cry of a werewolf. He strung his bow and began to descend the hill, following the sound. But he did not have to chase after it - as soon as it heard hoof-steps, the creature turned and came towards him.

Firenze was quite unprepared for a confrontation. With a surge of anger, he wondered if the herd had chosen this night as a test for him, knowing it would be dangerous and he would have to prove himself. But his pride would not let him wake up the camp until he had fought the beast himself, alone. He chose to utilize the weapon of stealth, and hid behind a tree in quiet observation until the beast had approached him.

Up close, the creature was smaller than Firenze had expected, as if it were not fully grown. But it was still a fearsome foe. When Firenze aimed an arrow at its breast, the creature narrowly dodged it, and Firenze lost his advantage. Moony lunged at his attacker, razor-like claws and teeth bared. Firenze only managed to intercept the blow with a well-timed counterstrike of his arrow tip. Blood began to pour from Moony's shoulder. The creature slinked down to savor the pain. Then, with the briefest look at Firenze, it turned and ran.

Firenze chased after the monster, drawing and firing arrows as fast as he galloped. The creature ran for its life. Soon it felt like they had been running for house, and it was a wonder they didn't wake the whole forest. The trees got denser as they got further from the lake. Just when Firenze thought he was about to collapse from exhaustion, the creature tripped & fell over a root, letting out a cry of agonizing pain.

A wave of relief sweeping over him, Firenze took out his final arrow and prepared to deliver the death blow. A swift slice to the throat would be too merciful. He needed to make sure the thing was really dead before he could return to the herd with a clean conscience.

Just then, a ray of sunlight began to make its way over the hillside. The full moon had set. Firenze watched in fascination as the creature began to shrink, its fur receding into its body, its paws turning into hands. The fearsome werewolf was, in fact, only a child. Firenze felt a terrible sensation in his gut. This must have been the misfortune of which the stars had tried to warn him.

The boy was lying naked on the forest floor in a fetal position, tears streaming down his face. The wound on his shoulder seemed no longer to be bleeding - in his human form, the cut was not nearly as deep - but was still very red. When he saw Firenze stride toward him, arrow in hand, he sat up abruptly and stared, trembling, at the creature before him. It took all the courage he could muster to look the centaur in the eyes. Oh, how wrong Dumbledore had been! How had he overlooked this? How could he not have known that this might happen?

"Please don't kill me," he begged, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender and reciting the speech his father had made him practice for situations like this. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I didn't know what I was doing. I really have no idea what happened."

"Arise," Firenze commanded, sheathing his arrow, and Remus obeyed. "You are mistaken. I have no intention of harming you. I am well aware of the symptoms associated with lycanthropy; you need not tell me of them. And fortunately, you have done no harm. It is only I who have harmed another."

Firenze and Remus stared at each other quizzically.

"What is your name, human youngling?" asked the centaur.

"Remus Lupin," the boy stammered. "Y-you called me human," he observed after a moment.

"As you are no longer a wolf, I see no other appropriate term by which to call you," Firenze said calmly.

"It's just that... no one has ever called me human after finding out what I am," Remus explained nervously. "I thought centaurs hated humans. We learned about it in History of Magic."

"Hate, no. But we are wary of your kind, and for good reason. We do not like to live in close proximity to humans, magical or otherwise. They always seek to exploit our abilities, disregard our intelligence, and - for shame - ride us as if we were common horses." Firenze shuddered. "Thus, we have come to an agreement of mutual isolation. You, however, seem different. Not just because of your lycanthropy, but because of your humility in the face of breeds deemed lesser than your own. You beg me for your life as if I were your equal or superior; you do not seek to dominate me."

"How could I dominate you even if I wanted to?" asked Remus rhetorically. "You might've noticed I don't have my wand with me. Or my clothes."

"Are you a student at Hogwarts?"

Remus hesitated before answering. Finally, deciding it was safe, he nodded truthfully.

"Are you the first werewolf ever to attend the school?" Firenze asked in fascination.

"I think so," Remus replied.

"I know of another werewolf who is a wizard," said Firenze, "although I do not believe he ever attended Hogwarts, due to his condition. He was not as fortunate as you in his time, to have a headmaster who would accept him. He is as dangerous a wizard as he is a werewolf. I believe that never learning to control his magic, as he would have at Hogwarts, made him even more dangerous. I had to attack you; I thought you might have been him. Forgive me. If he had made his way into the Forbidden Forest, the entire school would have been in danger."

Remus shuddered involuntarily. He knew exactly who the centaur was talking about. The fact that he didn't dare speak the name made it even more frightening.

The centaur bowed low. "I am Firenze," he said. He removed an arrow from his quiver and handed it to the boy. Remus took at it and stared at it quizzically, not sure if he should accept the dubious gift. But when he looked up, he saw that Firenze was standing with his head tilted back, as if bracing to receive a blow.

"What are you doing?" Remus asked.

"Offering myself up to justice," said Firenze, keeping his neck exposed. "I have nearly killed an innocent creature. I must give him the opportunity to put me to death, as I deserve."

"I'm not going to kill you," said Remus, lowering the arrow. "You didn't know I was a student. You were just trying to defend your herd."

"You must," said Firenze. "Kill me in order to save yourself. If you return to this part of the forest, if you threaten my herd, I will be forced to attack you again. And I can see it in the stars that you will return. I cannot keep you safe here. I cannot prevent one of my number from killing you at the next full moon."

"Well, you won't be able to protect me if you're dead," Remus argued. "When I transform, I'm not in my right mind. I can't control where I go and I won't remember what happened when I was a human. It's like I'm two people and live in two bodies." Looking down at Firenze's legs, he realized that he might not be the only one who felt this way.

Firenze finally bowed low again, accepting his fate. "The human is merciful," he said. "I owe him a life debt which I do not know how to repay. Whatever he desires shall be my command."

"Stay alive," said Remus, figuring it was best to begin there. "Tell the others who I am so they won't attack me. Get them to go somewhere else on the full moon, somewhere far away."

"Since you have commanded it, I shall try," said Firenze. "But it will be difficult. Centaurs hold werewolves in no higher regard than do human wizards. I doubt I shall be able to persuade them to overcome the fears and prejudices they have always known." Suddenly he smiled. "But here, perhaps, is a satisfactory arrangement. I will spread rumours amongst the herd that the forest this side of the lake is infested with werewolves, which is not entirely a lie. That way, you will be safe from our herd come the next lunar cycle, and our herd will be safe from you. But I cannot guarantee your safety from the giant spiders or any other creatures of the Forest."

"Um, thank you... sir," said Remus, not knowing what else to say.

"If you wish me to let you ride on my back to return to the school, I will suffer the indignity," he said. "The forest is dangerous for a young human to be walking alone on foot."

"Oh, no, sir," said Remus, remembering how proud centaurs were. "I couldn't ask you to do that for me."

"Do not worry about me," said the centaur. "I know the best paths to avoid contact with any members of my herd. I can get you there quite safely and quickly."

"Well, if you insist," Remus finally agreed, knowing that the centaur was right. Which would make McGonagall angrier: if he missed half a day of classes because he had to fight off an army of giant spiders without a wand, or if he incited the wrath of the centaur herd against the entire school?

"I do insist," Firenze told him.

With some difficulty, Remus climbed on to Firenze's lean back. His coarse buttermilk-colored fur was abrasive against the boy's legs. As soon as Remus had gripped on tight, Firenze began to sprint through the forest, expertly dodging all obstacles, running faster than Remus had thought it was possible to run. Out of breath, he struggled to keep holding on and to avoid the arrows bouncing up and down inside the quiver. Finally, just when Remus felt he was about to collapse from exhaustion, Firenze arrived near the tree line, where Remus could just make out the silhouette of Hagrid's hut on the horizon.

"Thank you, sir," said Remus, panting, as he slipped on the clothes that Hagrid had found in the Shack and laid out for him.

"No thanks are required, youngling. Remember, a life debt is a powerful and binding force among wizards and all magical creatures alike, one which cannot be fully repaid with one small deed. From this day forward, I shall consider myself an ally not only towards you, but to all those in whom you place your trust, including the students and staff of Hogwarts school. Fare thee well, human. I hope we meet again under a happier alignment of the stars."

* * *

Remus never told anyone about this encounter in the forest. He thought Firenze would not want him to. He did not want to reveal the story of how the kind, noble centaur had almost killed him, and thus bring shame upon one of his first true friends. But most of all, he did not want Dumbledore and McGonagall to worry about him any more than they already did. He was afraid that they could decide at any moment that it just wasn't working out to have him go to Hogwarts, and send him back home. And he would sooner die than give them a reason to make him an outcast again.

Firenze did not speak of it either, not even to Hagrid; nor to anyone, human or centaur, for years. He thought that he would carry the secret to his pyre. But in the wake of the final battle, when he learned that the boy he had once known had died protecting the school and those he knew, he felt it would be wrong not to speak. So that whenever anyone asked, they would know why exactly the centaurs had sided with the Order in the Battle of Hogwarts.


End file.
